


I realise, again, why I am doing this.

by lyryk (s_k)



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-07
Updated: 2011-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_k/pseuds/lyryk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Ianto decorate the tourist office at Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I realise, again, why I am doing this.

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Written for the prompt 'AU or domestic with a happy ending' and originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/torchwood_fest/18260.html) at [](http://torchwood-fest.livejournal.com/profile)[**torchwood_fest**](http://torchwood-fest.livejournal.com/). Title from _[Laps](http://www.poetryporch.com/forgblum4.html)_ by Michael Blumenthal. Beta'd by the wonderful [](http://alt-universe-me.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://alt-universe-me.livejournal.com/)**alt_universe_me**.

Cardiff’s Christmas lights are on, and since it won’t do to have a tourist information centre empty of holiday cheer, they decorate the tourist office to keep up appearances. Rain beats against the door from the outside and lashes the window, distorting the view of the world outside. Inside, the air is warm and still carries the aroma of their recently-consumed hot chocolate. Jack tramples all over Ianto’s desk with his big boots to reach the ceiling, from which he hangs silvery strands of tinsel that sparkle and swirl lazily through the warm air.

‘A little more to the left,’ Ianto says over his shoulder as he crouches by the little tree in the corner and hangs a fake candy-cane on one of the lowest branches.

Jack complies. ‘Eyes in the back of your head,’ he mock-grumbles, his tone belied by his irrepressible grin, by the spark of enthusiasm in his eyes that he doesn’t bother to disguise. His fingers quickly and efficiently smooth the bit of invisible sticky tape that holds the silver strand of tinsel against the ceiling.

Ianto smiles. The task had started out as an unavoidable obligation, but it’s turning out all right. He selects a little gold reindeer from the cardboard box beside him. They’ve all contributed to the decorations, and this one’s Gwen’s. An old family treasure, she’d said, the only remaining one from an original set of six, the others lost or broken. Ianto takes it out of the box gently, looping its gold thread carefully over a branch of the tree and watching it sway.

‘Hand me one more,’ Jack says, leaning precariously down from the desk, his fingers outstretched.

‘Careful,’ Ianto says, getting to his feet and handing another strand of tinsel to Jack. His other hand goes to Jack’s hip to steady him.

Jack laughs, the sound clear as a sheet of just-frozen ice, and playfully runs the feathery tinsel over Ianto’s face. ‘If I fall, you’ll catch me.’

Ianto bats the tinsel away from his face. ‘And risk getting squashed?’

‘But you like being under me.’ Jack loops the tinsel around Ianto’s neck and reels him in.

‘Is there anything you can’t turn into an innuendo?’ Ianto marvels, slipping his arms around Jack’s waist and helping him down to the floor.

‘Nope,’ Jack says, playing with the strand of tinsel around Ianto’s neck as he nuzzles close. ‘You look pretty in tinsel. Care to be tied up with it tonight?’

‘It’s hardly going to hold me,’ Ianto points out.

Jack’s hand slides up Ianto’s back and his fingers curl into Ianto’s hair. ‘But that’s the point. You won’t be able to move. Not unless you want to tear the tinsel.’ His warm, warm lips are impossible to resist. They kiss carefully, holding back. _Not here, not here._ ‘Let’s go home, yeah?’ Ianto says against Jack’s lips.

Jack goes to wait by the door as Ianto switches off the lights. He picks up Jack’s coat, intending to fold it over his arm, before he catches sight of Jack silhouetted in the door. His shoulders are hunched against the cold and the rain pitter-pattering in over his boots.

Ianto drapes the coat over Jack’s shoulders, and Jack leans back into him. He lets his arms slide around Jack, pressing his face into the back of Jack’s head, breathing in the scent of his green-apple shampoo. Jack tugs Ianto’s arms closer around himself, entwining their fingers in the process. The night wind tugs at Jack’s coat and makes the ornaments on their tree jingle.

Ianto presses a kiss into Jack’s hair. _I love you_ , he thinks, and it’s the first time the words have formed themselves in his head. If he says them aloud, they’ll fit perfectly into the sound of rain falling. The rain sounds like bells on anklets, like faraway dancing. Like happiness.


End file.
